The Great Decluttering Disaster of 2023
It all started innocently enough. I was scrolling through Instagram, mesmerized by these pristine, white-walled homes inhabited by serene-looking people who apparently only owned three shirts and a single wooden spoon. “I could do that,” I thought, my eyes glazing over a photo of a succulent artfully placed on a stack of three books (the only books, I presumed).
Thus began my descent into the world of minimalism, a journey that can only be described as a spectacular, laugh-out-loud disaster. My first victim? My overflowing closet.
I Marie Kondo-ed the heck out of my wardrobe, donating bags of clothes that “didn’t spark joy” (which, let’s be honest, was most of them). Feeling lighter already, I moved on to the kitchen. That’s when things took a turn. You see, I may have a slight… mug obsession.
Each one holds a memory! The chipped one from my first apartment, the one with the cheesy quote about coffee, the one shaped like a sloth (don’t judge). Getting rid of them felt like throwing away pieces of my life. I ended up keeping them all, justifying it by rearranging them into a more “aesthetically pleasing” display. Minimalism, who?
Sentimental Value vs. Minimalism: The Craft Supply Mountain
Next up: the dreaded “memory box” filled with everything from childhood report cards to movie ticket stubs from high school. Every item screamed “sentimental value!” I spent hours reminiscing, laughing, and even shedding a tear or two (that prom photo!). Result? I managed to throw away a single dried-up pen. Progress?
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I unearthed my “craft supplies” — a mountain of glitter glue, yarn scraps, and half-finished knitting projects. The minimalist gurus never mentioned what to do with the remnants of your failed DIY attempts. Overwhelmed, I shoved it all back into the cupboard, my minimalist dreams crumbling faster than a poorly constructed gingerbread house.